


TF Kinktober 2020 - Jazz/Prowl

by vesperarising7



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Control, Control Kink, Danger Kink, Energy Field Sexual Interfacing, Exhibitionism, Human Furniture, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, NSFW, NSFW Art, Oral Interfacing, Overstimulation, Size Difference, Spike Oral, Spike Warming, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, only they aren't human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperarising7/pseuds/vesperarising7
Summary: Transformer Prompt Fills for Kinktober 2020 - Jazz/Prowl
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	1. Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> I totally forgot i had this account. But here we are! The works are cross-posted from tumblr (chiaroscuro-s-writings)

To start this off, I will be attempting Kinktober for my fav transformers pairing Jazz/Prowl <3 Who knows If I'll actually finish this. I may choose to do stuff out of order too...eh.

Prompts: 

  1. Sticky Interfacing
  2. Danger Kink
  3. Exhibition
  4. Size Difference
  5. Overstim
  6. Field Play
  7. Toys
  8. Wings
  9. Spike Mod
  10. Bondage
  11. Collars
  12. Spark Interfacing
  13. Overcharged
  14. Bond
  15. Tactile Interfacing
  16. Dom/Sub
  17. Roleplay
  18. Oral
  19. Edging/Denial
  20. Control
  21. Valve Mod
  22. Voyeurism
  23. Secret/Quiet
  24. Gag
  25. Fuel
  26. Plug 'n Play
  27. Three or Moresome
  28. Friends with Benefits
  29. Sound/Voice Kink
  30. Cuffs
  31. Free Choice




	2. Sticky

Jazz was finally released from medical after his latest mission and couldn’t wait to get to his and Prowl’s shared quarters. Sadly, Prowl wouldn’t be off duty for another joor, probably two if he decided to work late which he usually did. But that was okay, Jazz could most certainly entertain himself while he waited for his mate to join him. He strolled through the halls waving hello and sometimes having a quick chat with the other mechs he passed. It wasn’t too long before he was typing in the code to their quarters. He slipped into the darkened room, lights on standby while the occupants were out. They gradually powered up from their default settings, increasing their luminosity at an easy pace that wouldn’t blind optics. Jazz let them light up on their own, but sent a command to stop the process at sixty percent brightness. He made his way over to the small washrack and turned up the heat of the solvent. Standing under the spray he finally relaxed. Medical was certainly reliable to get the job done and get mechs back up to shape, but it was definitely not a place for relaxing. Jazz hummed to himself as he cleaned off all the dust and grime that medical didn’t have time to detail. He turned off the solvent and ignited what was left on his frame. The flames wicked away any remaining moisture and the combination of finally feeling good, clean and relaxed left the saboteur running with a slight charge. He moseyed his way back to the into the habsuite contemplating whether or not to comm his lover to convince him to end early. Prowl still had just under a half a joor left of his shift. Entering the berthroom, he decided against it. Prowl probably wouldn’t budge from his desk at least until the last nanoklik of his shift. Workaholic that mech was. Jazz let himself fall back onto the mesh of the berth and a sigh left him as he was finally off his pedes. He was tempted to let himself fall into recharge, but his charge hadn’t dissipated yet and recharge wasn’t what he really wanted anyway. With thoughts of his lover coming home to him, Jazz let his servos run over his frame, digits circling headlights and sensitive wires. A soft moan filled the air as he teased cables and played with his wheels. Fans clicked on and their hum buzzed in his audials. Half aware, Jazz checked his chronometer. Only a few breems left in Prowl’s shift. Frag that, Jazz wasn’t so patient. He opened a private comm line to his partner. 

[ _Prowler~!_ ] Jazz only had to wait a klik for the Praxian’s answer.

[ _Hello Jazz. I was alerted you were released from Medbay. How are you?_ ]

[ _Need ya t’come back to our quarters, babe._ ] The glyphs had hints of impatience and no small amount of charge.

[ _Jazz. You know I am still on duty for another couple of breems._ ] Prowl commed back, disapproval heavy in his tone. 

[ _But Prowler~!_ ]

[ _Jazz._ ]

[ _Whatever y’r workin on can wait til t’morrow~!_ ]

[ _These reports have to be done this cycle, Jazz._ ]

[ _Pro~wl!_ ]

[ _You must learn to be patient. My shift is almost over. You can wait until I am finished._ ]

[ _Frag that, lover. I’m patient when I’m sittin it out wit’ the ‘cons for orns on end. Now, I’m back and I just wanna run my servos all over ya while I frag that hot, sweet aft o’ yers._ ]

[ _Jazz._ ] This time Jazz heard a bit of strain in Prowl’s voice. Almost.

[ _Or maybe ya wanna be the one fraggin the circuits outta me. Feelin’ my valve cycle down on y’r spike, lubricant and transfluid seeping inta our joints and messin up tha meshes._ ]

Jazz’s comm clicked signalling a closed line. His little fantasies had his engine revving hard and he wasn’t sure if his pleas worked with Prowl. Hopefully Prowl didn’t decide to stay late to spite him which he had done in the past to teach him a lesson. He was only left wondering for a couple of kliks before he heard the beeping of a code being tapped into the entry pad. Seems like he still had his persuasive skills lock, stock, and barrel, and fully charged if Prowl actually signed off even the slightest bit early. Or maybe Prowl wanted a good frag just as much as Jazz did, little persuasion needed. Didn’t matter either way, Prowl was striding into the berthroom, wings flared wide, and then he’s on the berth with Jazz pinning him underneath a frame that’s running just as scorching as his. 

“You’re an evil mech, you know that? I had to distract Ironhide from asking about the reason my engines started up while he was handing over the last of his reports.”

“Come on, Prowler. Just frag me already.”

It seemed like his fellow officer was just as eager as he because Jazz had barely gotten the last word out when a couple of digits were pressing into his valve. When had his cover slid open? Any coherent thoughts Jazz might have had swiftly vanished as another digit pressed into his cycling calipers, massaging engorged platelets and sensor nodes. Biolights flashed as charge ran over both mechs frames. Thick lubricant smeared over plating and dripped onto the berth underneath them. Jazz threw back his helm as digits were removed only to be replaced by a pulsing spike. It was hot, quick, and dirty and he loved every bit of it. 

“Primus, Prowl, just like that.” Jazz gasped out. 

The stretch was incredible and it felt like every one of his sensory nodes was imploding. Sparks arched from their frames, the crackling, popping energy lighting up the room in a dazzling show. The harsh, clanging sound of metal against metal was matched by roaring engines and fans. He didn’t know which of them overloaded first, but next thing Jazz was aware of was black and white plating swaying in front of his visor. Jazz glanced over. Prowl had collapsed slightly on his side, his vents still ragged, his wings were spread wide over the berth, one of them hovering over Jazz’s helm. Jazz tried to move, only to be grumbled at by a sated engine. One of Prowl’s arms tightened their remaining hold around his waist and pulled him closer. He snuggled into the embrace, listening to the tinny, sizzling pops of their cooling frames. He dimmed his visor, now thoroughly worn out. 

“Go to recharge, Jazz.”

Jazz complied easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a drabble, i tried jazz's accent idk if it worked. Also the idea of igniting solvent to dry off is not mine, i got it from aard-rinn i think? meister surprises prowl into a crash while he's in the shower. it was a great scene and y'all need to read their work.


	3. Danger Kink

Engines redlined as the pair of black and white alts raced across the otherwise deserted track. Jazz’s tires squealed as he turned a sharp corner just barely staying ahead of the mech behind him. His lover’s heavier enforcer alt, while built for endurance, had a quite remarkable amount of speed as well and he really had to work to keep his lead. He heard Prowl’s roaring engine as the other mech slowly pulled up beside his lighter racer’s alt. Jazz loved racing and chasing with his mate. The speed made him feel alive, and the pursuit coding in Prowl made the chase all the more fun. It was rare though that Prowl truly raced him and when he did, Jazz had to pull all his tricks to keep up. It was absolutely exhilarating. He felt a shift in Prowl’s game and kept a few sensors on how the enforcer slowly edged closer and closer along his side, not only matching his speed, but also starting to herd him off the track. Jazz was having none of that. He kept his position as he turned another corner, Prowl right with him. Having all his sensors on the track and the race, Jazz didn’t feel it at first but when he did, it hit him like a tankformer and nearly made him swerve which at these speeds would have ended nastily with a trip to a medicenter. It was all he could do to keep his focus on not crashing as Prowl’s field positively roiled with charge and suddenly, Jazz’s engines screamed for something other than the race. Jazz was always up for a bit of a thrill, so he opened a line to his partner.

[ _Prowler, whatcha doin?_ ] Jazz’s glyphs were sub-laced with curiosity, openness, and anticipatory charge.

[ _Racing you._ ] Figures Prowl could sound smooth and cool even as his frame and field flared hot. If it weren’t for Jazz being so in tune with his mate, he wouldn’t have picked up on the arousal in his words.

[ _Feels like y’r doin a bit more than that, babe._ ] Jazz made sure to insert some challenge into his tone.

Indeed, Prowl was now less than half a meter away and Jazz felt the static build between their frames and the beginning sparks of electricity that jumped the distance between them. His frame shuddered and he tried to shift away, not because he wasn’t into it, but for safety. However, Prowl kept that tiny span away from him and Jazz was sure that if anyone were to show up and see them, they would look like they were almost touching. They might have even seen the growing light between their frames as the highly charged current increased and branches of lighting arched between them. It was more than dangerous, but who would Jazz be if he didn’t love a little danger to spice things up. He pushed the tiniest bit closer to the enforcer who’s engine revved in response. In a moment, Prowl turned into Jazz so their plating was micrometers from brushing against each other before he pulled away again, speeding up so that he was now in front of Jazz. 

[ _That was a rotten trick, Prowler._ ] Jazz teased, voice thick with charge, before he put on a burst of speed and transformed landing on top of Prowl as he continued to race around the track. Prowl took a couple more turns before screeching to a spinning halt. Jazz nearly flew off, but he didn’t have to worry when Prowl also transformed and grabbed him securely. 

“I want you here,” Prowl growled out. 

“Anywhere you want, babe,” Jazz said as he was tackled to the ground. 

He vaguely wondered before crashing into his first overload how they were going to explain their worn to the rim tires and scorched, scratched plating to the poor medic who would need to patch them up after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i read a few fics where seekers could interface while flying so i thought why not while our favorite pair are driving???? idc if it isnt realistic, they're immortal alien robots. they can do whatever the frag they want


	4. Exhibition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirage shows up briefly in this

“But our quarters ‘r all the way on the other side of tha base!”

“They are not as far as you are making them out to be.”

“Come on, Prowler. Ya know ya wanna.” 

“Jazz, your office is not meant for personal activities such as you are suggesting.” Prowl frowned at his mate.

“Ma shift’s over. No one would come lookin for me here anyways.” Jazz bent down and started to put the datapads he had on his desk into the drawers. He lifted his helm and tilted it as if having second thoughts. “Well, ma team might. But they’re good ‘bots. They wouldn’t mind too much,” he amended with a wide smirk.

That was not what Prowl had expected him to say. “Absolutely not, Jazz.”

“Oh, for some reason I don’ think ya’d mind too much either.” Jazz waggled his optical ridges suggestively at the other mech. 

“No.” Prowl’s frown deepened but his tell-tale click and hum of his fans turning on belied his expression.

“C’mere, babe. Have a little fun!”

Prowl sighed, but walked over to his mate behind the desk. “Jazz, really, it would take only a few kliks to walk- ” 

Prowl stopped talking abruptly and threw his arms up to hold Jazz’s shoulders as he was lifted by his thighs and placed on the desktop so he was sitting on the table facing his lover. Before he could say anything in protest, his lip plates were claimed in a thorough kiss. He opened his intake, allowing their glossas to slide together in a slippery tangle. His fans spun faster. He moved his arms up to wrap around the back of Jazz’s neck even as he felt the other mech’s servos stroke over his thigh plating until those ever familiar digits rested on either side of his waist teasing wires and cables found there. Prowl finally broke the kiss. He tucked his helm under his mate’s chin as he tried to get his ventilations back under control. 

“Here, please?” The words were whispered right next to his audial and Prowl groaned at the sensation of sound and air so close, at the sensation of having his mate so close. 

“Yes, Jazz. Here.”

Finally getting the answer he wanted, the saboteur laid siege to his frame, plucking tight wires, grabbing at any plating and lights available to his reach. Prowl threw his helm back as those talented servos played him like an instrument and he became a vessel for his mate’s passion. He moved his own servos down until his digits could sweep across headlights and knead at the burning chassis in front of him. Fields flared as their charge ramped up, letting desire broadcast within the room. 

“Tha s’it, Prowler. Let me feel ya. Gettin so hot fer me.”

“Jazz!” Prowl gasped in response and his engines emitted a high pitched whine. 

“Careful now, babe. You don’ want anyone ta hear ya and come check on us in here. Righ’? 

Prowl managed to cut the keening his engine was making, but honestly, he didn’t much care at this point, and it seemed as though his mate saw through him easily because in the next instant he was tapping for entrance at his interface panel which slid open without any hesitation. 

“Ah!” 

“Or maybe ya do want someone t’catch us,” Jazz said with a careful twist of his digits pressing into his valve, lighting up sensors, his thumb pushing firmly against his anterior node. 

Prowl lost himself in the pleasure as he rocked into that servo, lifting his legs to wrap around the other mech’s hips. 

“That turn ya on, babe? Wonderin’ if someone will hear you and come knocking? That they’ll open tha door only to see y’r wanton frame spread across ma desk. Maybe they’ll stay and watch me lay claim to ya.”

“Yes! Jazz, please!”

His mate huffed a gentle laugh at him. “Mmm, ya really wan’ someone ta come in here?”

“Don’t care! Let them watch! Jazz!” 

Prowl shouted as his charge was pushed ever higher at the feeling of the other mech’s spike pressurizing directly into his valve. Lubricant dripped from between his legs, pinging off the metal surface of the desk. He didn’t catch the ultra-short range comm his mate sent, and the sound of the door sliding open and closed quickly was lost behind the sound of revved engines and buzzing fans. He let himself be guided to lay on his back, as he tried in vain to get his lover to move. 

“So eager, love,” Jazz chuckled at him, but still didn’t move. 

He closed his optics and let his helm fall over the edge of the desk in frustration, his servos pulled at his mate’s frame. 

“Jazz, ple-ase!”

Jazz’s only response was to lay over him and nip at his throat cabling. Prowl’s sensors picked up the slightest disruption that wasn’t caused by him or Jazz. He let his optics cycle up only to catch the upside down view of blue and white plating flickering into existence. His optics blazed and he nearly overloaded right then and there. 

“Jazz!” 

Finally, Jazz started to move in small, shallow thrusts that gradually became deeper as they both watched the SpecOps Second lean back against the door, arms crossed and optics bright as he watched the two lovers in turn. Prowl felt it as Jazz leveraged himself back up so he could tilt his hips in a way so that he could reach all the way to the cervical node resting at the back of his slick valve. Prowl’s intake hung open in a silent, never ending gasp as his valve stretched snugly over the spike that crackled with energy. He kept his gaze on the noble witnessing their lovemaking even as their charge skyrocketed. Electricity arched between their frames, even reaching far enough to tag the edge of the onlooker’s controlled field which flared briefly in response to the transmitted energy. 

“Love ya, Prowler.” Jazz groaned as his rhythm began to stutter. 

Prowl’s own HUD filled with warnings of overheating and imminent crash response. He dismissed them all and let himself trip into overload. 

“Love you!” he shouted as his vision whited out in oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prowl is a stickler for rules and propriety, but he also has a shameless exhibitionist streak. jazz indulges him, prowl's more than fine with that. i wonder how jazz made that invitation to mirage to come watch, i also wonder how mirage took care of his own charge afterwards.........


	5. Size Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have an au idea where Praxians, being related to Vosnians, are capable of extending hidden panels in their doorwings to create sail-like wings that allow them to glide short distances. They are not true flyers, but they have smaller and lighter framework structures to allow them this version of flight. This makes Prowl noticeably smaller than Jazz. Though not to a degree where they would be incapable of interfacing.

Jazz let his servos wander across his lover’s small frame. At the beginning of their relationship, he had felt like he was taking advantage of the exotic Praxian to fuel his own fantasies like any other glider-frame enthusiast, but as they continued to date, he found himself falling hard for the little glider. He wondered everyday how it was such a mech as Prowl would stay with a big, uncouth Poly like Jazz. All the other Praxians certainly wondered too. Praxis was a gorgeous city, but the inhabitants were known for their noblesque culture. But it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Prowl was his and he was never letting go. 

Especially if the little cyberminx kept moving like that. 

“Fraggin’ Primus, babe.” Jazz groaned loudly as his gaze was transfixed by the sight on his lap. 

Prowl had turned around so that his aft was facing Jazz and he felt his lover’s small servos brace against his shin plating. Jazz couldn’t pull himself away from the tantalizing view of Prowl’s dripping valve hovering over his spike. At the angle he was at, their size difference seemed all the more prominent. Jazz saw his own spike twitch as he watched one of Prowl’s servos play with his own valve, spreading lavender colored lubricant all over engorged platelets. He moaned at the sight of internal biolights winking at him when his lover’s digits scissored and spread himself open for the poly’s much bigger spike. 

Jazz moved his servos away from those sinfully lithe hips and clenched his fists to the berth instead. It was quite the exercise in self control and it felt like joors before Prowl finally deemed himself prepped enough to guide Jazz into that molten valve. He locked his frame in place so that he wouldn’t accidentally jerk his hips up into that tight heat and hurt his mate. Slowly, ever so slowly, Prowl worked himself onto his spike and it felt like the best torture. He could see the stretch and strain of the elastic folds trying to accept the intrusion, valve lips wrapping tightly around his spike and tugging away from the valve every time Prowl leveraged himself back up only to slide down again taking the tiniest bit more into himself with each motion until the glider was finally fully seated flush in the cradle formed by Jazz’s pelvic girdle. Both mechs shuddered at the feeling. Jazz only had to wait a few more moments before Prowls began to work himself up and down in earnest causing them both to see stars as electricity arched between their two frames, snapping forcefully whenever Prowl’s hips met the mech’s underneath him. 

Jazz felt more than heard Prowl’s ragged ventilations, and he knew himself to be in no better shape. Fans spun madly in vain attempts to get their owners’ temperatures back down to normal levels while engines stuttered with all the sensations. Jazz’s overload surprised him as it hit him like a tankformer. He lost control of his frame and he slammed up into his mate as he was bent backwards with the force of his pleasure. Vaguely he sensed Prowl follow him into overload, excess charge adding to the light show that lit up the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick art to go along with my TF Kinktober: Size Difference mini short. This is what Jazz was lookin at 👀  
> idk if the size difference worked in the drawing but i'm sure you get the idea, jazz can't resist that aft
> 
> [Art](https://chiaroscuro-s-writings.tumblr.com/post/631096349091332096/some-quick-art-to-go-along-with-my-tf-kinktober)


	6. Overstim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it’s a day late. It ended up way longer than I expected. 

With the war in full force, it was rare that they got any significant time with each other, and when they did, they were mostly too tired to do anything but recharge together. Don’t get Jazz wrong, he loved snuggling up with Prowl, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t in need of a good fragging session. Cogblockers the ‘cons were, really. They had been unusually active this past decaorn and he was lucky to see his mate for more than a joor at a time. Especially after the last battle when some of their intel was too outdated and had nearly ended in utter disaster. Even so, over three quarters of the deployed troops had to be triaged and half of them were still under medical. Personal time had been a rare luxury. **  
**

Which is why he was fully prepared for when Prowl finally came off shift and they actually had a couple of cycles off at the same time. Hopefully, the cons would finally take a break. Unfortunately, Jazz knew he’d have a hard time getting Prowl to relax and stop thinking about work for a while.

Jazz set out what he would need for the night. Plenty of cabled rope, he would have liked to use the silk mesh ones, but he knew his lover would be fighting him and so the cables would be stronger and better to withstand any struggling. He also grabbed a pair of cuffs. They weren’t stasis ones, but they were very good, durable. Next, he set out some rarely used artificial lubricant where it could be accessible. Cybertronians were designed to produce lubricant easily and in great amounts because dry metal on dry metal was a downright awful feeling. But even they had limits, Prowl was of a design that used more resources because of his power heavy processors and generating lubricant was not exactly a high priority reason for his frame to direct precious resources to that particular process, and Jazz intended to push him to the very edge of his, thus the artificial kind. Finally, he pulled out an insertable from their toy box. It wasn’t one of their more interesting ones, it was actually quite plain, but it was large, slightly larger than himself, and it could vibrate on a mild setting. Jazz had stamina, but he knew he’d have to take at least one break for what he had planned. Now he just had to wait. He cued up some music and let it play softly in the background. He grabbed some spare blankets to cover the berth with as an afterthought. He folded and tucked their usual ones in the upper corner. The spare ones would be nice enough to keep Prowl as comfortable as possible during interface, and afterward they could just throw the spare ones off and grab their usual ones to curl up in. Jazz set himself an alert for a couple of joors then leaned back on the berth and let himself drift off for a while. 

Jazz woke up a couple of kliks before his alarm was set to go off. He dismissed it and slowly stretched as he got up. He made his way over to their energon dispenser and filled some cubes. He left two on the small table in their berthroom. As for the remaining couple, he kept one for Prowl when he got home and drank the other himself. Soon enough, he heard the beep of a code being typed into the door console. Prowl stepped into the habsuite, but before he could call out to Jazz, he found a cube against his lip plates.

“Fuel, Prowler. I know ya din’ earlier.” 

It was a testament to how strung out the tactician was when he failed to make any comment, he just took the cube and downed it, easily dispersing the cube afterwards. Jazz watched as blue optics brightened ever so slightly at the energy. He gently wrapped his arms over his mate’s shoulders and brought him close for a chaste but meaningful kiss conveying everything they hadn’t been able to say to each other these past orns. 

He pulled back enough to ask, “Ya wanna move this to the berth?”

“I am too tired to do anything tonight.” To his credit, he did look quite apologetic.

“Come on, babe.” Jazz tried asking once more. 

“Jazz, please. I am tired and wish to recharge now.” Jazz frowned at that. While he wished he could just let his partner sleep, he knew that Prowl would not be recharging any time soon even if he wanted too. 

“If ya can look meh in the optics and tell me y’r not jus gonna lay awake going over tac sims, then Ah’ll just cuddle wit ya and let ya ‘charge.”

“Jazz.” 

“Prowl.” Jazz knew he had him when his mate couldn’t refute him. Now he just had to wear Prowl out until he truly could get some much needed recharge. Primus knew Prowl took way too much responsibility on himself. 

“Alright.” Prowl relented and allowed his lover to take his servo and lead him to the berthroom only to stop when he crossed the threshold. He took in the objects laying around and a miserable expression came over his face plates. 

“Jazz, I will interface with you, but I don’t have the energy for all this.”

“S’alright, Prowler. Jus’ lay back and let me take care o’ ya.”

“Jazz- ”

“Shu, babe. I got ya.” 

Jazz had grabbed the pair of cuffs while his mate had frozen and now slipped one closed around the wrist closest to him. He tugged gently and walked to the berth, feeling Prowl stumble behind him, but he was not resisting yet. He pushed the Praxian down lightly and arranged him over the berth. He took the other servo and brought it up to the head of the berth where he released a sturdy locking loop hidden along the edge. He threaded the chain through it and snapped the other cuff closed. The little clicking sound of the locking mechanism seemed to jolt Prowl out of his momentary apathy. His optics brightened and his gaze grew pointed at Jazz. 

“Jazz, we should not be doing this.”

Jazz played along. “Why shouldn’ we be doin this?”

“Release me.”

“Why?”

“We,” Prowl said with a severe frown. “should be recharging, or doing something important.”

“Oh, I think this’s plenty important.” He interrupted as he slid his way down his mate’s frame and grabbed the rope, lifting one bent leg and starting to tie it to the side of the berth where he had opened another set of hidden loops. 

“Jazz, we are at war. We should be using this time to recharge and prepare for our next shifts. Not - not playing berth games while- ”

“Hush Prowler, or I’ll get a gag too.”

“Jazz!” the tactician’s voice sharpened as he tried to jerk his leg out of his mate’s grip, but he had already secured it to the berth and Prowl could only manage the tiniest of movements. 

“Tell me to stop, Prowl, an’ I’ll stop.” Jazz said seriously, meeting his mate’s intense glare. 

Prowl said nothing. Slowly, Jazz reached up and pet his servo over that crimson chevron before sliding it down to cradle warm cheek plating. 

“I know ya need this, Prowl. Jus’ let me take care o’ ya. Primus knows ya can’t stop thinkin wi’ that processor of y’rs. All that drive and guilt’s gonna eat ya up. So, let me do all the work. I’ll get y’r charge so high ya won’ be capable of thinkin of anythin else but me. Then, once y’r all worn out, I’ll let you down and we can cuddle and recharge for the nigh’. Okay?”

Prowl looked at him for a bit before acquiescing, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jazz smiled sweetly at his mate. 

He lifted Prowl’s other leg, bending it at the knee joint before tying it down to the other side of the berth. Then he crawled back up his lover’s frame and tapped at a small panel on his side. He didn’t need Prowl working himself up again and this should keep his processor busy while Jazz finished prepping him. 

“Open up fer me.” 

As the port spiraled open, Jazz unspooled his own cable from under his chassis. He gently massaged the port with a digit and bent down to kiss the Autobot decal printed over his mate’s white plating before moving his attention to one headlight. He jacked his cable into his lover and sent a digital handshake over the established connection. It was accepted immediately and Jazz was able to send the first data packet over. He felt as Prowl processed it, his frame relaxing slightly as his mental abilities went towards analyzing the complex texture pack he had given him. It wasn’t so much a sensory feed as it was meant to be something that kept Prowl’s focus in the moment and not dwelling on the war or work. 

When he was sure that his love was suitably content, Jazz let his servos wander over the frame underneath him. He dipped the tips of his digits into seams and under plating, stroking sensitive wires and cables. He felt Prowl tense into the sensations before relaxing a little further. He trailed kisses along his body, nipping an energon line alongside the throat, sweeping down to that voluptuous hood and bumper. He teased headlights before moving down to abdominal plating. He licked along the seams and heard Prowl’s fans click on. Jazz smiled against his mate’s slowly warming armor. He slid down even farther, easily maneuvering the cable that connected him to Prowl so it wouldn’t get caught. He skipped over the pelvic array and leaned over to trace the lines on shin plates and sweep over broad pedes. Prowl jerked a little at the tickling sensation of having digits press lightly at the sole of his pede, but stayed otherwise motionless, letting Jazz do as he pleased, not that he could have moved his legs much anyway. Jazz switched to the other side before coming back up to fondle vulnerable knee joints. He caressed the wiring found there and Prowl moaned deeply. Jazz slowly worked his way up strong thighs before hovering a servo nanometers over his mate’s pelvic interface panel. 

“Open up, love.”

The covering retracted at his command, and Jazz let his digits brush over a softly blinking anterior node in reward. Prowl gasped this time and he arched his hips up towards the light pressure, not demanding, just out of involuntary reflex. When there was no further stimulation, he let his frame finally fully relax into the berth and waited for Jazz to continue. Jazz waited a few sparkbeats more before thumbing at the slit of the soft valve. He slowly exerted the tiniest bit of force and watched as valve lips spread and seemed to suck his thumb in. At the feeling of slipperiness, he knew the production of lubricant had started but Jazz wanted to be safe. He felt for the bottle of artificial lubricant with his other servo and flipped the cap open. He contemplated his lover’s temperature for a nanoklik, then deemed it still cool enough to not be shocked if he didn’t take the time to warm the gel-like substance. He poured some of the cool liquid over the Praxian’s array before allowing his digit to press in fully as he sent a new data packet over their hardline. This time he sent a sensory one, letting Prowl see what he saw and feel what he felt as that silken valve compressed around yet another digit. He slipped his digits in and out at a mild pace. He witnessed his mate sink the slightest bit more into the blankets, the pleasure nice, but not yet insistent. Jazz let another couple of digits slide in while reaching for one of those wide spread sensory door panels that were pressed against the berth. He knew the berth was giving enough that the weight of Prowl’s frame didn’t hurt them, but just to be sure he teased the edge of one and watched it flutter freely, though slightly impeded by the berth and the attached frame. Good. Jazz’s servo wandered over the expanse of the panel, massaging pressure points and petting over the decals emblazoned on them. He sent a small magnetic pulse through his servo mods. Prowl’s temperature ratchet up a few degrees and he trembled slightly. Jazz took that as his cue to let his own panel slide back to allow his spike to pressurize from its housing. The sound of it locking into place made his partner jump slightly. Easing his digits out of the now very slick valve, he thrust forward until he was fully seated in his lover. He held still, relishing in the warmth and intimacy of being so close to his mate. He held his lubricant coated digits up to Prowl’s intake.

“Taste.”

Prowl groaned as he let his oral intake fall open. Jazz dipped his digits in gently and felt the Praxian’s glossa run over them as he suckled. There was no describing the feeling that came over Jazz as he watched his mate’s optics dim in trust and contentment in being taken care of. Keeping a steady and almost languid pace, he began rocking into Prowl, feeding their pleasure, but not making it consuming. He rested his weight on the frame underneath him and nuzzled at the jaw line that moved with every suck and pull at his digits. 

“Y’r so wonderful, babe. I love ya.” Jazz got a few hums in response. 

Slowly, he worked Prowl up to his first overload. Eventually, Prowl’s frame tensed and electricity flashed underneath his plating, a few tendrils of energy escaping exposed seams to tag Jazz. Instead of slowing down, Jazz quickened his pace, keeping Prowl’s charge from dissipating. He withdrew his digits and used both servos to grasp under Prowl’s bumper with a quick mag pulse. 

Prowl gasped, “Jazz!”

“I told ya, love. Imma wear you out.”

“Oh!”

Jazz drove into his lover forcing him into a second overload close on the tail of the first. Charge crackled over both frames leaving them shaking. Still, Jazz did not stop and sent data bursts of sensory feedback over their hardline as he continued to thrust into that spasming valve. The third overload overtook them both as it washed over the second and Prowl’s valve clenched so tightly it locked the spike within it. Jazz couldn’t have moved away even if he wanted too. Once the waves of pleasure ebbed, Jazz carefully eased himself out only to replace his spike with the false one he had laid out earlier. 

“Jazz, wha-at?” Prowl’s vocalizer glitched briefly. 

“Jus’ hang tight, Prowler. Give me a klik.” 

Jazz grabbed the bottle of lubricant again. This time he dribbled some into his servo and kneaded it a bit to warm it up before massaging it over Prowl’s valve, taking the time to tease the brightly flickering anterior node. The receiving mech jerked hard in his restraints trying to escape the touch to his oversensitive mesh and sensors. Jazz pressed firmly down on the exposed node, audials ringing with the resultant wail, before stepping away to reach for the cubes of energon. He downed one himself, then held one up to his mate’s lip plates. 

“Drink, babe.”

“Jazz.” Prowl frowned. “Let me down,” he said while tugging at his restraints. 

“Nuh uh, Prowler, I ain’t down wit’ ya yet.”

“Jazz,” Prowl jerked at the ropes. “I don’t think I can- ”

“Hey, ya’r lettin me take care o’ ya, righ’?” 

“Jazz.”

“Drink.” Jazz pressed the cube at an angle so that the edge parted lip plates slightly. 

Prowl drank obediently. Jazz sent him another data packet in reward. He let his spike retract but didn’t close the panel. He waited for Prowl to finish before dispersing the cube. A slight trickle of missed energon trailed down his chin and Jazz swiped it up before it could drip.

“Messy.”

Prowl rolled his optics before throwing his helm back as Jazz took the base of the false spike and swirled it around. Jazz played with the toy, pushing it in and out of that slick valve in an arrhythmic pattern until his lover’s hips shuddered. Then he flicked the vibrator on. The vibrations were mild, but after three overloads it must have felt overwhelming. The bound mech seized in pleasure as his engine revved and stuttered. Jazz passed his free servo over burning plating, snagging wires and cables within crackling seams. Arcs of energy snapped and frayed releasing the scent of ozone and charge throughout the room. Prowl shrieked in another overload as in one moment to the next, Jazz slipped the vibrating spike out of his valve only to press it into his anterior node. The Praxian tossed fitfully in his bonds as engorged mesh and swollen nodes were stimulated almost to the point of pain. His servos were fisted in the cuffs and he whined in the aftershocks of the charge. 

“Hot, burns.” Prowl whimpered as washer fluid gathered under his optical lenses. 

“I know, babe. Ya’r doin so well. So good fer me, Prowler.” 

Jazz swept a digit under his mate’s optics to collect the pooling liquid. He felt echoes of the scorching feeling of his lover’s charge through his field and their hardline connection, felt the plea in the words, but he wasn’t done yet. He poured some more artificial lubricant over the false spike before he pushed it back into Prowl’s valve. He kept the vibrations on. With both servos free once more, he put them to use on those fluttering doorwing panels. He dragged his digit tips over the leading edges before pressing against the flats firmly, sending strong magnetic pulses through them. Prowl sobbed through his next overload. When his lover’s frame went limp once more, Jazz backed off a little.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, ah, maybe? I don’t know, please.”

“Alright, jus’ one more, m’kay?”

“Ja-a-zz!” Prowl cried out brokenly as he thrashed in his bindings. The cuffs and rope held, however, and he was forced to just accept whatever Jazz did to him. 

“Look at ya, love. Beautiful.”

Jazz tugged the false spike out of his mate’s valve and turned it off. He laid it on the table next to the berth to be cleaned later. He crawled over his love’s shaking frame and let his spike pressurize right into that molten heat. Prowl twisted and writhed at the sensations overtaking him. Databurst of shared sensory feed zipped back and forth over their hardline, making coherent thought impossible. Jazz was swept up into the roiling storm that was his lover’s pleasure and pain and slammed into him repeatedly, driving their charge up into stratospheric heights until, once more they tipped screaming over the edge. 

When Jazz came to, their frames were still popping and sizzling in their cooldown. He hefted himself up and released the cuffs holding Prowl’s wrists above his helm. As expected Prowl was out like a light and didn’t even twitch. Jazz undid the bindings around slack legs and let the ropes fall to the floor. Next, he gently pulled at the cable still connecting their frames and processors until it came free from the shorted out port. He let the line respool itself in its compartment as he staggered out of the berth to tug at the blankets until they came free from under the Praxian’s frame, and tossed them into a corner to be taken to laundry later. Then, he stumbled into the washrack and grabbed a couple of cleaning meshes and ran them under some warm water and solvent. He cleaned himself up quickly, then went back to Prowl to wipe up all the lubricant, transfluid and condensation that had covered his plating. He threw the used rags on top of the soiled blankets before hauling himself back up onto the berth with his mate, pulling the clean blankets open and tucking them around them both. Jazz traced his digits over Prowl’s slack face plates and smiled, before wrapping his arms around him and falling into much needed recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may try to do today's as well, but I will probably have to catch up later, like maybe this weekend. Let me know if you catch any SPaG issues, this one was much longer than my usual and I might have missed some things.


	7. Field Play

Jazz hated being laid up. For someone as active as himself, he couldn’t stand not being able to move. Ratchet had released him from medbay, but he was on orders to rest for another couple of cycles. Unfortunately, he couldn’t push his luck this time, because every time he moved the welds holding his side together pulled and threatened to tear open again. 

“Jazz, stop fidgeting. You are distracting me.” 

Oh, yeah, and that. That being, his workaholic tactician of a mate didn’t agree with him when he said they should use this time to frag and decided to go over reports instead of going over his lover. How sad. 

“But Pro~wler! Th’ berth is cold without ya!” 

Jazz shifted slightly trying to tug the bunched up corner of the blanket out from under his left pede. Prowl looked up with an exasperated expression. 

“Jazz, I came to sit with you so you wouldn’t be lonely, but I do, in fact, have work that needs to be done.”

The injured saboteur pouted. “But all o’ yer attention’s on tha datapad. How c’n I not be lonely?”

Prowl just arched one optical ridge in response. “Many friends take the time to simply enjoy each others’ presence without actually doing anything together other than share company.”

Jazz stared back at his mate for a klik, then stuck out his bottom lip plate and dimmed his visor to a dull blue. 

“Jazz, stop that.” Prowl frowned back at him. 

He tried to roll over to turn his back on Prowl, but his injury got in the way and he ended up just turning his helm. It kind of ruined the effect, but it seemed to work just as well because the next sounds he heard were Prowl’s sigh and the brief clatter of a datapad being put down. He listened to the Praxian’s pedesteps as he made his way over to the berth Jazz was resting on. His sensors felt Prowl come up to the side and hover there over his shoulder. Jazz kept his helm resolutely turned, optics staring at the wall. 

“You are an insufferable, needy mech.”

Jazz made no move to respond. 

“You are acting like a sparkling.”

_It got ya over here though din’ it?_ But Jazz ignored his mate until he felt a servo rest on his shoulder. 

“S’it so wrong of me to wanna spend ma time wit’ ya?” He knew he was laying it on kind of thick, but he wanted what he wanted and was going to play it to the end. 

“No, Jazz. But one must work, before play.”

And with that the servo on his shoulder was gone and Prowl retreated back to the chair he had been in before. Jazz waited. It took a couple of breems, but his patience was rewarded with the tiniest ping of a field against his. Another breem passed before he felt another brush of the other mech’s field. This time it was more obvious and definitely had hints of playfulness in it. Jazz pushed back with his own field. He rolled his helm back over to look at Prowl who was still staring at that damned datapad. But there was no mistaking what his field was broadcasting. Jazz smiled and opened his intake to say something, but a wave of arousal washed through his mate’s EM, meshing into his own and all he could do was groan at the sensation. For the next joor, the two mates entangled their fields until they couldn’t clearly define who’s field belonged to whom. It was slow, and it was wonderful. And when overload finally overtook them both, it felt like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and sweet, but I may go back and expand it a bit.


	8. Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual interfacing in this one

****Everyone said that Prowl and Jazz were too different, opposites of each other, and that they couldn’t understand how they worked together. Truth of the matter was, Prowl and Jazz had been in a relationship long before the war started. But not many mechanisms knew this. Prowl was quite content with that. It didn’t matter to him what other bots thought. He knew Jazz sometimes had issues with mechs who he thought insulted Prowl, but that was just Jazz’s way. Prowl loved Jazz. It didn’t matter what kind of situation they were in now, he’d always love Jazz. But sometimes he did miss things from before the war. Like this one tradition they had built from the first time they had ever interfaced together. There was a small festival in Praxis that celebrated unconventional art which just happened to coincide with a festival in Polyhex that celebrated new lovers. Jazz had been visiting him and had immediately fallen in love with the little fest. People had filled a street with art that otherwise didn’t quite fit in. (Praxis was a noblesque city and their standards of art were rather strict and focused on method and propriety more than free creativity.) The street wasn’t very large, but there weren’t many people either and the two mechs easily meandered through the different stalls. They had just about had their fill for the day when one stall that was covered in thick, unusual fabrics and tucked up against a small building caught their visual feeds. Figuring one more stop wouldn’t hurt, they checked it out. When they pushed aside the coverings and stepped inside the two mechs froze in shock. Prowl had remained frozen a few beats longer than his mate, but wasn’t shocked enough to miss the gigantic smile that split across his lover’s face plates. Suddenly, the fabric coverings made much more sense. **  
**

“Prowler, I’ve found it. I’ve found paradise!!”

Prowl groaned in exasperation at Jazz’s reaction. While Prowl certainly enjoyed a good interface, Jazz took personal indulgence to a whole other level. And this little stall seemed to feed every fantasy the Poly had ever persuaded Prowl into fulfilling _and more_. Erotic art filled the small space depicting mecha in various positions of interface. Paintings and stills covered the walls, sculptures filled up tables and open ground space, and in the back was a truly impressive collection of interfacing toys. Nothing was left to the imagination. 

“Prowler! C’mere! We have to try this one!” Jazz was pointing at a sculpture of a mech suspended in a particularly interesting rigging.

“Ah, I see you have found our little shop.” The mates turned to see two purple minibots walking up to them, one with white accents, one with blue. 

Jazz flashed the mech a brilliant smile. “Mechs, I have just found ma favorite place on all o’ Cybertron.”

The stall owners laugh brightly. “You have rare taste! Not many look at our business with great enthusiasm,” the white accented one replied. 

“Do ya make all this y’rselves?”

“Ah. I do the painting and photography. My twin here does the sculpture and molding.” 

“C’n ya do something of me an’ my bondmate?” Jazz asked while positively leering at his lover.

“Jazz, no!” Prowl tried to control the situation, but found he was speechless.

“Aww, but we could hang or put it up in the berthroom!”

“No-” the word came out half strangled.

“The livin’room then? I’ll admit Prowler, I din’t take ya for one to want ta share that with guests.”

“Jazz!” Prowl was saved from having to come up with a better response by the bot with blue accents.

“Oh, we most certainly could, but your bonded doesn’t seem too thrilled at the idea?” One of the artists said with good humor. “But perhaps you would be interested in something to bring a little extra excitement to the berth?”

“Wha’dya say, Prowler?”

Prowl sighed. He knew he couldn’t resist Jazz and sent affirmation over their bond.

“Alright, show us what ya got mechs!”

The toy they chose was an insertable, the false spike was of a medium size but it had several interesting ridges and could vibrate. Thus began their little tradition. Every hundred vorns at the combination of their festivals, Prowl and Jazz chose a new toy to add to their collection, until they had a small chest’s worth of them. And now, well into the war, they still had a box full of interesting things to spice up their nights. They had sold many of them to other couples in the army when such businesses went under. Having a decent interfacing toy was quite a luxury at this point. But the two of them kept their favorites so that when their schedules allowed, well, there was a reason their rooms had soundproofing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love writing interface scenes, but i needed a little break, so here we are


	9. Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Not really kinky, but eh. Gliding Praxian AU, Prowl is a glider, Jazz is a Polyhexian racer frame, slightly bigger than Prowl but not too significantly so.)

Jazz would never be able to get over the lurching of his tanks whenever he saw Prowl jump off of the buildings in Praxis from balconies that were designed for just that purpose. While the buildings in Praxis weren’t like the towers in Vos, they were still fairly tall and almost every single one of them was decorated with gliding ramps on the upper floors. So far, Jazz had avoided using one, after all he wasn’t the one with fancy doors with hidden flight panels, but Prowl wanted him to try it at least once. 

“Ah don’ know Prowler, won’t ma weight mess up yer balance or whatever?”

“While your weight would prevent me from gliding as far as say, our habsuite, I will still be able to glide to Praxis Center Park without issue. If you wanted to go farther, we’d land on various gliding platforms before jumping again.”

Jazz looked dubiously over the edge of the ramp twenty-two stories above ground. Praxis Center Park was only a couple blocks away. They could just walk.

“You do not have to if you are truly not up for it.”

Though his glyphs were considerate, they did have the slightest edge of a challenge in them. Sometimes Jazz thought Prowl had an unaddressed devious streak underneath all that rule-abiding stoicism. That or he was picking up the art of manipulation from Jazz which would just not do, not do at all. 

“It’s fine, Prowler. Ah’m ready whenever ya’re. However far ya wanna go.”

Prowl stepped up close behind Jazz. His chassis pressed against his back plating, making the sensors there tingle. His arms wrapped snugly around Jazz’s waist just underneath his bumper. 

“I’m going to give you a tiny push, and then I’ll jump. You’ll drop a little bit, so your back will end up underneath my bumper.”

“Okay.” 

Honestly, Jazz didn’t have it in him to say anything more than that. He heard the transformation sequence that allowed the inner panels on his mate’s doorwings to open. They spread to create a wide triangular, sail-like shape making it easy for air to catch, but also easier to control once in the air, or so Prowl had said. Even knowing it was coming, Jazz let out a small, startled yelp when suddenly, the platform was no longer solidly underneath his peds. 

“Prowl!”

“I’ve got you Jazz.”

Jazz felt more than heard his mate’s reassurance. His smooth tenor pitch hummed against his back plating, making him feel oddly warm. In only a couple of kliks, they had touched down in the central park, much faster than the breem it would have taken to walk. The landing was a little nerve wracking even though it had been explained to him. Prowl has loosened his grip a couple of meters before they reached the ground and allowed the momentum to swing Jazz free of his grip and land on his own. Prowl tipped a wing slightly which made him glide slightly away from Jazz so they wouldn’t collide with each other before landing himself. Jazz’s visor was bright in heightened awareness, but he quickly came back to himself when Prowl took his arm to lead them down the walkway. Thinking back, the wind rushing past his plating was kinda cool. Almost like racing. He shivered.

“Are you alright Jazz?”

Jazz took a moment to process. It was in fact, kinda neat. He could take or leave the flying, but the feeling of Prowl so close, the strength of his arm holding him, the strength of his own trust in his mate to not let him fall - yeah, Jazz could live with that. 

“Sure am, Prowler. That was kinda neat.” he finally said with an easy tone.

“I am glad you thought so.”

Jazz’s engine revved a little. Vaguely, he realized that the rush and thrill of leaping off a building might have left him feeling a little high.

“Jazz?”

“Hey whaddya say ta glidin the rest of tha way t’our hab? And then we can _glide_ a little in tha berth, huh?”

Prowl just looked at him, but then led him up to the nearest gliding platform.

If there was a little more speed in their step, neither of them mentioned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jazz is just a little high from letting prowl hold him while 20 stories off the ground in a glorified freefall


	10. Spike Mod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no clue what to write for spike mod, so please enjoy my drawing of jazz's spike instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how metal works also excuse the bad shading


	11. Oral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, I dropped off the face of the planet. My goal is to have something written for all kinktober prompts by the end of November. I am also going out of order. The plus side to creating my own prompt list, is that I can do whatever I want with it lol ;) This is from prompt 18.

Though Jazz was known for being the party officer, he was, in fact, third in command for a reason. He knew his jobs and he did them well. Still, there was one thing that he hated doing.    
  
The datawork.    
  
Jazz, of course, completed everything to his best ability and was consistently on time too because this wasn't some regular desk job. This was the Autobot Army and turning in a report late could result in major consequences such as the loss of lives. It certainly wasn't anything to take lightly. That didn't mean he had to like it, however. Though there were some times when the endless datawork was somewhat easier to get through. Times when Prowl would help him out.   
  
Jazz and Prowl had been somewhat casual lovers long before the war. Though if you told any of the other mechs that Prowl was capable of being any kind of lover they would scoff and refuse to believe it. Of course, back then, they had negotiated their relationship with a contract. So maybe their doubts were somewhat justified. See, Prowl, by the nature of his advanced processing systems, constantly had to be in control over - well, everything about himself, right down to how he walked and how he talked. It was by sheer chance that Jazz had come across Prowl in one of the preciously rare moments where the esteemed strategist was in less than perfect control of himself.    
  
It had been after an especially taxing case when the other enforcers of his cohort dragged the unwilling mech to the new bar and club that had opened up. The cacophony had finally kicked the poor mech over the edge, and despite his fellow enforcers' insistence that high grade would help, the intoxicating stuff had not relaxed him in the slightest. If anything it had made him more sensitive to his chaotic surroundings as his processors struggled to keep up with the data input. Prowl had tried to leave but was pushed away from the exit by a group of overcharged mecha. He ended up in one of the establishment's employee only hallways. There was noise from what sounded like some mechs coming from around the bend, and not wanting any more contact or confrontation with anyone, Prowl opened the nearest door and hid inside it's room. Optics closed to block additional data influx, he did not immediately register the other mechanism already in the room as he slid down the door to sit on the ground.    
  
Jazz was just about to leave for the night when the entertainer realized he left his visor in the washracks. He left the door open slightly as he went to quickly grab it, only when he came back out of the washroom, there was someone barging into the suite.    
  
"Hey mech, you ain't supposed ta be in here," Jazz said forcefully.    
  
He didn't take kindly to people who assumed they could just take what they wanted improperly because of his nightly profession. The mech, who was now sitting on the ground, startled badly as they onlined their optics. Jazz watched as the stranger's gaze darted around the room, taking in the engeron dispensary, washroom, and the large berth taking up much of the main room. The mech's optics paled as he realized just where he had stumbled into.    
  
"Oh, Primus! Sorry! I was jus-I mean- Primus!" The stranger tried to scramble to his peds and open the door again - quite unsuccessfully.    
  
Jazz, though still irritated at the sudden intrusion, relaxed just a bit when he realized the mech had made an honest mistake. No look of shock and horror could be so easily faked, especially to Jazz who made a living off of being able to read people's frame language.    
  
He took pity on the mech. "Hey, now calm down. Yer fine. Ya just got turned around here, I think." Jazz stayed back as the mech sagged in defeat with a whine of his engine as the door remained locked. It was designed after all to make sure the entertainers got paid and were in well enough condition to escort their customers to it. He was about to approach and help the stranger when they suddenly slumped over with the tell-tale grinding of a crashed processor.    
  


\---

Prowl woke up in a medicenter. A nurse was immediately by his side asking him how he felt. Prowl looked around the room wondering how he got there. The nursebot told him a mech had brought him in after he had crashed at a club. There was no evidence of drugs or high grade in his systems though and the medic in charge of him had decided that it was due to his not having recharged for a few days straight that had led to his crash. He would be released later that afternoon. Until then, Prowl was instructed to recharge some more. He later woke up to the sound of voices.    
  
Jazz didn't know why he went to the medicenter. He had no obligation to the mech who had stumbled in his rooms last night. He just wanted to make sure the other bot was okay. The medibot in the front room recognized him and let him through. 

“How’s he doin’?”

“Perfectly fine now. We are just waiting for him to boot up and then he’ll be discharged.”

Jazz stepped into the room and saw Prowl’s optics light up. “Looks like he’s awake now, doc.”

Once all the formalities had been seen too, Prowl was let out. 

“Wanna get some fuel, Prowl? I’m sure you’re low.”

“I can acquire my own fuel.” Prowl replied as they walked through the doors to the medicenter. 

“Sure, mech. But I’m offerin’. Feel like a parting such as the one we had was a bit too awkward. M’name’s Jazz by the way.”

Prowl considered it for a klik, then sighed. “Alright. The medicenter did top me off last night, but it has been a while since. How do you know my name? I did not give you one.”

“I overheard it from the other enforcer mechs who I assumed you came in with.”

The two mechs stopped at a small cafe. Prowl kept mostly to himself and let the other mech lead the small talk. He thought he did a fairly decent job until the other mech called him out.

  
“You gotta relax mech.”

“I cannot, not to the degree that other mecha can. My ATS is power draining and I have to constantly feed it work to keep it from latching on to stray thoughts.”

“ATS?”

“I have an in-built tactical system, I onlined with it.”

“Maybe, I can help ya out with that.” Jazz said, his subglyphs telling Prowl just how he intended to do that. Prowl was appropriately scandalized at first, but eventually after several more stellar-cycles of meetings that were certainly not dates, he agreed to let Jazz try. 

\---

Which led them to their current arrangement. 

  
Jazz had coaxed Prowl down gently. While most mecha wanted control, Jazz had catered to a mech's needs whatever they might be. And right now, Prowl needed someone to take care of him, allowing him to relinquish his control. Jazz was just fine with that. Because it wasn't about the interface. It was about giving Prowl the space he needed to safely disengage and not worry about anything.   
  
So yes, Jazz hated datawork. However, there were times when he didn't mind it as much as usual. Times when he took the extra datapads to his and Prowl’s shared quarters to get away from the main crowd. Times when he could relax ever so slightly and still get work done. Times when instead of Prowl badgering him over proper working habits he was quiet and let Jazz do his thing while he focused on the necessary datawork. It was nice.    
  
And also that oral intake over his spike. That was nice too.    
  
While Prowl could give spike oral like a pro, that wasn't what he was doing now. The objective wasn't overload. Occasionally Jazz could feel the slight sucking sensation and pressure of his mate’s glossa against his spike when he felt he needed to swallow, but for the most part Prowl left his jaw slack. Some oral lubricant had built up and dripped down his chin but he made no move to wipe it away. He was knelt comfortably between his Jazz's legs with his processor fogged over in a headspace only Jazz could provide. Every so often Jazz would let his hand drift down to pet at the helm resting on his thigh. Overall, it was a very calming sort of play and Jazz wouldn’t trade it for all of Cybertron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not wholly happy with this, I wanted to expand on a few parts. I may go back and expand it at some point.


	12. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have abandoned the prompts, sorta. sorry, not sorry. they will either be out of order or not related to my prompt words. This one goes with day 20.
> 
> (Can be related to my oral prompt fill, but it is not needed to understand this. If u have read my other prompt fill, this takes place before the war when Jazz and Prowl negotiate a contract with each other.)

Prowl was uncharacteristically nervous. He had finally relented to Jazz, not that he had a problem with his agreement, it was just very much something he had never encountered before and so was understandably wary of it. But he did want to try this. He had always been two steps out of tune with other mechanisms and he was very aware of the ways other mecha described him: hardaft, drone, sparkless. He tried not to let it get to him, he understood that between the demands of his tactical suite and the nature of his job that it was more of a way for the others to reconcile the hard decisions that had to be made and less a true reflection on his character. But he still wished he could find a way to disengage from his overbearing ATS, it frustrated him sometimes that he couldn’t do anything without having considered as many possible outcomes as possible. Most of the mundane things he could regulate to background processes, but when it came to interaction with others, his tacnet forced him to keep it open and in the forefront. And now, Jazz was telling him that there might be a way that he could get the tactical suite to calm down some. It may not be a way to change the way he interacted with mechs, but it might give him some sort of reprieve from the tacnet’s persistence all the time. 

“Ya okay, Prowl?” Jazz asked with a slight helm tilt. 

Prowl looked at Jazz who stood in front of him. The other mech seemed relaxed, but attentive. That more than any kind of assurance of confidence made him feel even the slightest bit better about this. “Yes. What are we doing?”

Jazz flashed him a smile then led him over to the couch that was set up nicely against the one wall of Prowl’s habsuite. “Well, since I know ya ain’ ever done this kinda thing before, why don’ we sit down a bit and talk about how this is gonna go.”

“Okay.”

Jazz sat down, smile still open for Prowl to find reassurance in. Prowl situated himself next to the other mech facing him and waited for him to speak. But instead of explaining what he thought would help Prowl disengage from his tactical suite, he pulled out a datapad. Prowl glanced at him in confusion. 

“So, I remember ya saying that many enforcers negotiated partnerships with contracts to start. Then when they became more comfortable, they usually let the contract fade out. So I drafted this little thing to help you feel more comfortable.”

The two mechs spent the next joor and a half going over details and negotiating the contract. And it worked, Prowl did feel noticeably more comfortable with this contact with Jazz. 

“So, now tha’ that is outta th’ way, here’s what I’m thinking of doing.” Jazz said he set the contract aside. “The thing with y’r fancy tac setup is control. I’m gonna have you do some things that will counter that feeling of being in control. The things will be pretty easy, but I imagine that since it will be things y’r unfamiliar with it will seem harder.”

Prowl felt some tension at that, but really, he did lots of things that made him uncomfortable. He knew somehow that Jazz wouldn’t push him too far. He would push though. Still, Prowl wanted this. “Okay.”

“Good mech.” Jazz smiled again then settled back into the mesh of the couch. He had a look on his faceplates that Prowl couldn’t read. “First thing’s first. Stand up for me please.” 

The way he said it did not make it seem like a request. Prowl hesitantly stood up while Jazz remained where he was but still keeping optic contact. 

“Now, take off y’r armor.”

Prowl’s optics brightened. “Excuse me, what?”

“I’m not one for repeatin myself. Don’ make me hafta. Ya heard very well what I said.” Jazz’s steady gaze was the only thing from keeping Prowl from - actually he did not know. He was too much in mild shock to figure out what he would have done had Jazz not been such a point of steadiness. This was certainly not what Prowl thought Jazz would suggest. But, their contract was clear, and Prowl had agreed to this. He wanted to break optic contact, but something in Jazz’s look kept his bewildered and embarrassed gaze on him. 

After a few kliks of just staring at each other, Prowl choked out, “I don’t...do not...understand?”

“What, exactly, did ya not understand about what I said?”

“I- don’t know.”

“Then get to it.”

“Here?” Prowl would have been embarrassed over the way his vocalizer squeaked, but his processors were currently too stalled. 

“Yes. Here.” 

The crisp way Jazz said that had Prowl hesitantly reaching for the clasps on him plating. It unnerved him to have Jazz watching. It wasn’t an intense stare, but it was attentive. And Prowl wasn’t sure what to do with that. Which was probably the point. Prowl ducked his helm and looked anywhere but at the other mech. 

When he had the first piece off, he asked in an uncharacteristically shy manner, “Um, where…?”

“Tha couch is fine.” Jazz said with a nod to the other side of the piece of furniture he was sitting on. 

It took over a breem, but eventually, Prowl had taken off every bit of his plating and stood there in front of Jazz not knowing what to do next. Jazz simply pointed to the floor next to his pedes and said, “Sit.”

Prowl abstractly understood the concept of what Jazz was doing with him, but he never imagined just how strong the perceived loss of control was over something as seemingly simple as a mech in protoform compared to a mech with full armor on. Jazz was correct in saying that Prowl would find this difficult. It was uncomfortable. Not bad. Just different, and Prowl didn’t know how to interpret it. He chanced a glance at Jazz but dropped his optics again quickly, and sat where Jazz had pointed him to. Jazz took out a datapad that seemed to be some kind of news article. He began to read and Prowl was left sitting there on the floor next to Jazz. He glanced around the room a few times, but quickly resigned himself to being content as he sat there waiting for Jazz’s next command. Jazz shifted his position a few times, but Prowl remained still. While he looked at his chronometer the first few breems, he stopped and time became a vague notion. He was just starting to feel a bit stiff from sitting in one position for so long when he heard Jazz shift again. 

“Prowl.”

Prowl looked up at the other mech.

“Stand.”

Prowl slowly stood. Less with hesitance and more with just the stiffness of not moving for a while. He looked at Jazz for his next direction. But Jazz just nodded and went back to reading his datapad. Prowl shifted awkwardly, but remained facing Jazz. He could normally be very still for long periods of time, but this was a much different situation he found himself in. 

“Stop fidgeting.” Jazz said without looking up from his article. 

Prowl stopped. He focused on remaining completely still. He felt a weird sense of self control in a situation where he did not have control. It made it both harder and easier. Harder because he was constantly aware of how not in control he was. But easier because he had to exert his own self control in order to do the simple things Jazz wanted him to do. Once or twice he began to feel strangely separate from himself. So focused on what Jazz wanted him to do that he could only comprehend other things with a vague sense of distance. At some point, he realized Jazz had called his name. Jazz called him again, no hint of impatience, just an order to attention. He looked at Jazz calmly waiting for whatever the mech wanted for him to do next. 

“I want ya t’ get me a few cubes of energon. Three mid grade cubes. Mix one mid grade with cobalt, one wi’ silver. Mix the last with bismuth. Please bring them out on a tray.”

Prowl nodded his acquiescence then went to the kitchenette to get what Jazz wanted. He felt a strange sense of calm while he prepped the cubes. He placed them neatly on a tray then carried it back out to the main room. As he approached the couch, Jazz subspaced the datapad and stood to take the tray from Prowl. He held it in one servo as he rested his other between Prowl’s doorwings. 

“One more thing I want ya to do. I want ya t’ kneel for me. All fours.”

Prowl knelt. He felt Jazz shift him gently to how he wanted him. Prowl let him without resistance and he ended up with his legs and pedes tucked underneath him and his helm resting on his arms, optics facing the base of the couch.. 

“Spread y’r doors flat.”

As Prowl levelled the sensor panels he felt a slight weight come to rest on his back. He realized it was the tray of energon. 

“Keep y’r vents deep an’ even, from y’r abdominals. Don’t upset the tray.” Jazz guided. 

Prowl listened and did what Jazz said. He didn’t know how long he remained like this. He felt as Jazz took a cube and sipped at it. Prowl felt grounded in a wavy he wasn’t sure how to describe while at the same time his processor floated in some strange suspension. The weight on his back was oddly comforting. Eventually, though, it was lifted away and Prowl heard it be set on the table next to the couch. Jazz helped him up from the slightly cramping position and brought him to sit on the couch. He used his magnets and rubbed out a few places where Prowl had stiffened up then pulled him close to his side. Prowl snuggled there while Jazz praised him. 

  
“Ya did very well, Prowler. Thank ya.”

The two of them sat in quiet for a few kliks longer until Prowl started to feel less detached. Jazz shifted him more upright, then grabbed one of the two remaining cubes and handed it to him. 

“Drink that please. Then I want ya to have the other one too.”

Prowl took the cube and sipped at it. The taste of silver was smooth and light and helped keep Prowl settled. He felt the uptick in energy and looked at Jazz as he handed him the other cube once he was finished. This time, the taste of bismuth was slightly sharper and brought him to be more alert, but he was still calm. When he had drained the last of the cube and set it down, Jazz asked “How do ya feel, Prowler?” 

It took Prowl a couple of klik to figure out what he wanted to say. “Alright. Good. Though, I am not entirely sure everything I am feeling. I will have to think about it. But I do not feel bad.”

“Okay, that’s good. It’s okay that ya need time to process. How’s the tacnet?” 

“I believe that it is idle. I have not received any pings from it for a while.” Prowl said with a slight smile. 

Jazz smiled back at him. “Great.”

The two mechs remained on the couch for another joor. Finally, Prowl got up to put his armour back on. Jazz stood as he was finishing and reached for the tray of empty cubes. “C’n I wash and put these away for ya?”

“If you would like. It is not needed though.” 

Jazz nodded then took the tray and cubes to the kitchen. Prowl finished with the last of his plating when Jazz came back out to the main room. 

“It’s really late. R’ early depending on how ya look at it. Ya mind if I crash here on the couch?”

Prowl waved at the piece of furniture, “Be my guest.” Prowl had his suspicion that Jazz wanted to stay to make sure Prowl didn’t have a delayed negative reaction, but he found himself trusting Jazz all the more for it. 

Prowl walked over to his berthroom door. “Have a good night, Jazz. Thank you.”

“Good recharge, Prowler.” Jazz said with a signature flash of his visor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	13. idk what this is but pls enjoy this trash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PixeledPurple mentioned that they were thinking of a scene where Jazz fragged Prowl in a bean bag chair, and has allowed me to run away with the idea. I made two versions, one is TFA, one is more G1-ish sorta. These are completely unedited.

**TFA Version:**

Jazz just loved being on Earth. It was no Cybertron, but it certainly had its own charm. Jazz was particularly interested in the human cultures and even their inventions. While their technology was nowhere near the capabilities of Cybertronians, they had many neat things that Jazz just could help but be fascinated by. For example, just the other day, he had witnessed a group of humans playing one of their flashy video games but instead of a couch or other normal piece of furniture, they all sat on these squishy lumps of material. He asked Sari what the things were and was immediately captivated by the idea of the bean bag chair. Later that day, he did a little digging and was disappointed because those things looked so comfortable and fun but they were not made big enough for a transformer. That was until he found a site that offered custom orders. He was pretty sure they meant big orders in regards to quantity, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to try asking for a more literal order. He only had to wait a couple of Earth days when he was pinged on the email Sari had set up for him. Soon after, he was on a call with the company owner and when they realized that he was from Cybertron, they immediately accepted his special order having been one of the people they had inadvertently helped out a couple times. Jazz gleefully explained the dimensions he wanted. 

“Great! We will start working on this immediately. What color would you like it to be?”

“Color? Uh, blue? No, red! Um maybe purple or green? Uh, how ‘bout ya just use as many colors as possible? Is that okay?”

“Ha! Sure is!”

And that is how Jazz came to be sauntering into the Autobot’s warehouse base carrying a giant shipping box. Ultra Magus had let Jazz stay with the repair bots to get a better idea of how they worked together and he had ended up sharing a room with Prowl. The other ninjabot was aloof and far too serious, but caused no problems with Jazz and they were actually getting along quite well. Maybe too well in somebot’s opinions. But Jazz didn’t care, Prowl made him so ridiculously happy in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries. He couldn’t wait to show Prowl what he got!

“What is that?” Prowl had frozen in the doorway to his room. He stared at the brightly rainbow colored...thing...that now rested in front of Jazz’s berth.

“It’s a bean bag chair!”

“It’s very….colorful.”

“Yeah! They said it was called tie dye! Isn’t it great?”

Prowl sighed, “As long as it stays on your side of the room.”

“Sure thing!”

Jazz was convinced that this was the greatest invention ever. It was just so comfy! It literally molded itself to his frame and was unlike anything he’d ever experienced sitting in before. Currently, he was draped over it on his abdomen while he tapped at a datapad that rested flat on the floor. He heard Prowl come in and looked up in time to see the slightly irritated glance at the new addition to the room before the other bot jumped up into his tree. Hmm, Jazz would just have to show Prowl how amazing this thing was. 

It took a few attempts, but finally Jazz had just picked the smaller bot up and sat him in the bean bag chair. Before the black and gold ninjabot could jump up, Jazz sat on top of him with a devilish smirk across his face. 

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Prowl’s vents had choked at such brazeness from the other bot and he flushed hotly. But Jazz’s trick worked and Prowl was too interested in an interface than to continue to complain about the chair. Jazz flashed his visor in a wink then quickly flipped Prowl over so that he was in the position that Jazz had been in the other day, his abdominals supported by the bean bag chair, pedes and servos braced against the ground. Jazz rested on top of his lover and teased at exposed seams while he linked them up together. 

The two bots overheated quickly sending charged sensory packets over their connection. Jazz felt when Prowl got closer to the edge of his pleasure. One of his pedes had kicked upwards and the clawtips on his servos dug into the floor. Thoroughly enjoying himself, Jazz worked over his lover until they both tripped into a processor-blowing overload. 

Suffice to say, Prowl had no complaints about the bean bag chair after that.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**G1-ish Version:**

One of the greatest things in Jazz’s opinion about maintaining good relations with Earth after the war was the unique imports that Cybertron just didn’t cater to. Jazz had several Earth-type things that decorated his shared habsuite with Prowl. Prowl was largely okay with his mate’s indulgences as long as they weren’t too obtrusive. Jazz wasn’t really sure how Prowl was going to take his latest impulse buy, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, this Cybertronian sized bean bag chair was just the most comfortable thing ever. He had tucked the unconventional chair in the corner next to his sound system. Honestly, it would have probably fit well within Prowl’s parameters of being unobtrusive if it weren’t for how brightly colored it was. Jazz probably should have just stuck with a blue or red color, but he hadn’t been able to make up his mind and had ordered it to be all the colors. Jazz loved it, but he knew Prowl would take some serious convincing to allow him to keep it. 

“No.”

Prowl’s reaction upon seeing the tie-dyed lump of material sitting in the corner of their main room was much as Jazz predicted it to be. The scandalized look in his lover’s optics made him laugh. Quickly, Jazz made his way over to the other mech and kissed him in greeting. 

“Come on, mech. I know it’s kinda stand-out, but ya just gotta try it. You’ll see. This chair’s the greatest fraggin thing, I swear.”

“That...thing is not a chair.”

“Sure it is, Prowler! It’s a bean bag chair!” 

Jazz pushed his mate over to the chair. Prowl put up a token resistance, but eventually let himself be bullied into the monstrosity that now resided in their main room. The Praxan tried to lift himself up before his doorwings could get in the way, but surprisingly, whatever material this “chair” was made out of simply molded itself around his frame including his sensor panels. It was slightly weird to feel the pressure of the material hugging itself around the two panels, but there was no pain or ache from it. Prowl relaxed a bit. 

“It’s good right?”

“It is better than I expected it to be.”

Jazz took that as a win and flashed a brilliant smile at the other mech. He was rewarded with a rev of a pursuit engine and his mate’s faceplates blushing an adorable blue in embarrassment. Jazz’s smile immediately took on a more rakish attitude. 

“Whadaya say, Prowler? Wanna test it out some more?”

The click of fans and a quick nod from the Praxan was all the prompting Jazz needed. He settled himself on Prowl’s lap facing him while grinding their panels together as he adjusted his position to be more balanced. He braced his forearm against the wall as he let his other servo pet over his mate’s chevron. The sudden onset of lust in the both of them kept them from dragging their foreplay out. Jazz’s valve covering snapped back as he felt Prowl’s spike extend. Prowl rubbed over Jazz’s sides as he fingered himself briefly making sure there was enough lubricant. But soon enough Jazz was guiding himself down on the straining spike. He rolled his hips into the penetration and gasped at the feeling of sensor nodes coming alight at the sweet drag of a spike in his valve. The new chair was somewhat tricky to maneuver in, but it supported them surprisingly well. And in their current position, while Prowl wasn’t able to move much, Jazz was able to ride his lover with ease. Jazz bent over Prowl to engage him in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, his lubricant tacky digits pressing over flashing headlights. Charge quickly crackled over them generating the potent scent of ozone in the air. Jazz moaned into the kiss and felt the tightening heat in his array, his rhythm became somewhat more insistent as their charge skyrocketed. He cycled his valve down on Prowl and heard him gasp at the unpredictable pattern. Jazz smiled slightly but quickly found himself scrabbling at the wall for support when Prowl retaliated by dragging his digits over Jazz’s bright and swollen anterior node. Twin cries of ecstasy resounded through the room as the two mates tipped over the edge and overloaded, electricity crackling over their frames before dispersing harmlessly. 

After coming back to himself, venting quickly to cool down, Jazz shakily lifted himself off of Prowl’s lap and sat on the floor resting his upper body against his love’s legs. Looking up at Prowl who didn’t seem to be in any more control of himself, he smirked lazily. 

“We’re gonna do tha’ again right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may get around to doing art for these ficlets at some point.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to PixeledPurple for encouraging me to write and actually post my stuff :) Their works are great, and I recommend all of them <3


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